Emily Potter's Bizarre Adventures
by Shintouyu
Summary: Emily J. Potter was a relatively normal child, except for that bizarre ghostly-friend of hers. Then the letter from Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft & Wizardry arrived and nothing has been quite the same anymore.
1. Chapter 1: A Child Named Emily Potter

**Chapter 1: A Child Named Emily Potter**

* * *

She had always been a strange girl with strange occurrences happening strangely often around her. She just never knew how abnormal she was or what normal had been for others, until she was the age of four when her legal-guardians had to begrudgingly sent her off to attend school.

"Girl" they would simply call her, and "Freak" at other times whenever something strange would happen. For the longest time, she had believed that "Girl-Freak" was her name.

It was only after the great misunderstanding that had been cleared after roll-call, did she become aware of her real name: Emily J. Potter.

And at the end of that particular day, the girl couldn't help but ask: "What does 'Freak' mean?"

The teacher wrinkled her face in pondering. It was a question out of the blue, unrelated to what she had taught that day (and being the first day, not much had been taught). So she had no clue what could have led to such a question, and carefully thought how to explain it simply to a child.

But one of the other children, still in the classroom while waiting for their parents to pick them up, was more than delighted to explain. "A freak is something that looks ugly! Really, really ugly!"

"It means weird!" another chipped in, "Grandpappy told me so!"

The next proudly claimed, "I heard it in a movie once. 'A freak, a monster!' That's what they said!"

The teacher hushed the children silent before she gave her own answer, "Emily, a freak is… something that is different from normal. Like a cat going 'woof' or a dog going 'meow'. Do you understand?"

Emily quietly nodded her head, sparing only a moment's glance toward the the spirit that nobody could see floating next to her.

* * *

A couple of minutes later, Emily's uncle and same-aged cousin finally arrived at her classroom.

Her uncle approached the teacher immediately, tone a tad commanding and blunt, "I'm here for the girl."

The teacher wasn't fond of his tone but remained polite, "And which girl would that be?"

"That one," he turned his head and pointed a finger toward the quiet-looking girl with messy black-hair and green-colored eyes hiding behind less than fitting glasses. That is to say, of course, Emily J. Potter.

The teacher looked at the small crowd of children and then back to Emily's Uncle, "Well, I won't know what girl you're talking about unless you can tell me her name, Mister…?" it seemed that she intended to play coy.

"Dursley. Vernon Dursley."

Though the teacher hadn't quite memorize all the names of her students yet, she was fairly certain that she hadn't heard of a 'Dursley' in the class, or even a child with a similar heavyset body like that of Mister Dursley and the other child standing next to him. But she kept those thoughts to herself.

"And you are looking for who, Mister Dursley?"

Vernon took a audible and visible deep breath. Even to the children, it was obvious that the man had a short temper that he was barely reigning it in.

"Now listen here, Miss…"

"Applegate."

"Ms. Applegate, I am a busy man with a busy schedule. And I won't stand around just to answer your daft questions. If there's no concern about the girl's academic or attitude, then say no more!" He called out, "Girl, we've wasted enough time here, we're leaving _now_!"

Emily merely replied, "Yes, Uncle Vernon."

The teacher could only purse her lips as she watched the three walk away.

* * *

Emily knew better, of course. Her uncle Vernon was not a particularly busy man at all, and mostly enjoyed the comforts of being able to work at home. "Director of Grunning Drillings, that I am!" she had often heard the man boast proudly to other people.

But it was also true that Vernon had to rearrange his personal work-schedule to make time to both drop-off and pick-up Emily and Dudley from school.

Normally such a task would have been left to the missus. But the idea that his wife would have to be seen taking the children (more specifically Emily) to and from school - near fifteen minutes a walk, two walks a day, for five days a week - well, it was a less than pleasant thought for him. Vernon and his wife Petunia preferred to spend as little time as they could interacting or associating with Emily.

And so, adjusting his schedule, Vernon had reluctantly decided to drive the children to and back from school.

Vernon in the driver's seat, Dudley in the passenger, and Emily in the back; it was a short but silent ride all the way back to 4 Privet Drive.

As soon as they entered the Dursley Home and at once when the front-door had been closed, Vernon quickly stated, "To your room, Girl." He then placed a hand on his son's shoulder, directing Dudley toward the living-room, eager to hear what his son had to say about his first day at school.

But the girl didn't move and stayed where she stood, "It's 'Emily'," she stated.

Vernon's face crinkled as he turned his head around, "What?" It was not often that the quiet girl would talk back to him or refuse to do as she was told.

The child raised her voice, "My name is 'Emily', 'Emily J. Potter'! Not 'Girl'."

"'Girl' is good enough for you!" And as soon as those words left Vernon's mouth, did a scratch appear on the walls of his home and ruining the floral wallpaper. 'EMILY J. POTTER' the scratches slowly spelled out. "You…!" was not the right answer, as two more name-scratches beginning to be etched on the walls. "FINE!" he shouted at last, and the scratches paused. Then through gritted-teeth, Vernon stated, "Now, that's enough of your funny business… Em·mi·ly J. Pot·ter!"

Emily nodded, a pleasantly small smile on her lips.

' _Thank you_ ,' she wished well in her thoughts to the unseen spirit hovering nearby.

* * *

==To Be Continued==

* * *

 **Author Ramblings**

Newsflash: Dumb Author writes dumb story, using his experience that is primarily from Harry Potter Fanfics, and personal-reading from most of Jojo except for Part 8!

Anyways, this is mostly a Harry Potter Fic with elements from Jojo, rather than a crossover or evenly-split fusion. I like the fantastical aspects from both series, so I'll be very likely playing fast and loose with the rules of Magic and Stand.

Also, I haven't used Fanfiction in such a long time, but man is this text-editor pretty restrictive. Having to use the Horizontal Lines for page-breaks, no text-size options, and the "To Be Continued" is supposed to have an arrow imitating the Jojo Anime's closing-cuts but that's not accepted here.


	2. Chapter 2: 11th Birthday

**Chapter 2: 11th Birthday**

* * *

And so the years past by with as little as a peep for the Dursley Family. Or as little as a peep that one could get with little "Emily Potter the Freak" living with them. Things had been relatively quiet and peaceful, but Vernon and Petunia knew better than that, especially when it came to their own home.

Everyday Petunia would clean the house from top to bottom, and everyday she would take a peek into Emily's Room while the girl was out at school. The woman would find a various assortment of things (like toys and treats, books and crayons, clothing and knick-knacks) that certainly hadn't been there before.

Though the Dursleys easily showered their son Dudley with gifts no matter the expense, they had remained tightly frugal when it came to their niece Emily. So they naturally knew quite well what sort of things that Emily Potter should or shouldn't have in her room.

Of course, neither Vernon or Petunia had need not ask Emily where these items had come from.

They already knew quite well that it was from neither of them, nor their son Dudley (who had been warned to stay away from that little freak). So there could have only been one culprit: Emily Potter's Imaginary Friend.

Petunia frowned as she scuttled out of Emily's room.

The girl had claimed it to be a phantom that only she could see. A being that did as it wished but would sometimes obey her thoughts. A being that grew more docile as the girl became older (though its penchant of accruing various items from who knows where had clearly yet to wane).

Petunia merely figured it to be the imagination of a strange child trying to rationalize her strange abilities; the strangeness acting out on the girl's subconscious whims and wants. After all, Petunia's sister had been much the same: a peculiar individual who could do peculiar things.

Her stomach churned at the thought of her sister. Old memories bringing back a swirl of emotions even more complex than when she had first experienced them.

Since the days that they were young, her little sister had been different, yet Petunia remained normal. And on a certain day, Petunia's negativity had condensed into a single sound that came screeching out of her throat:

 _"Freak!"_

And so Petunia grew distant to her sister and distant to the family who had always praised that little sister. Eventually, Petunia worked a normal job, married a normal man, and lived a normal life with her family. Normalcy became a point of pride, as all of her worries slowly faded with the passing of time.

And yet still, she couldn't help but wonder if things had gone differently, then perhaps...

"Dear?" Vernon's voice came from below, "Where are you? I need help setting the decorations!"

Petunia shook her head to throw away the haze of memory-lane.

That's right, there were still important things to do around the house. As a matter of fact, today was a very special day.

Today was her precious Dudley's eleventh birthday.

* * *

Every year on his birthday, Dudley Dursley would always receive at least one more birthday-present than the last. And every year, as if it to show the riches or affection that they would never give her, the Dursley always allowed Emily to sit back and watch their son enjoy his party.

Dudley was nearing the end of his annual present-counting, "Thirty-five, thirty-six, thirty-seven… Hey! There's only thirty-seven presents here! That's one less than last year!" but become obviously displeased at the results.

However, his mother knew him well enough and tried to placate him quickly, "Oh, Diddykins, there's nothing to be upset about! I promise you, when we go out today, I'll buy you two new presents to make up for it!"

"You promise?"

"I promise, of course! Has your mother ever lied to you before, Diddykins?"

"Nope!" he replied with a big fat grin.

And with that the matter was settled. Vernon chuckled and then praised his son for his economic sense of getting his money's worth or some such.

And after the annual-counting, it was the annual present-opening. Dudley was a like a wild beast as he tore through wrappings to reveal the gifts underneath. A new computer, a second television, a remote control airplane; just to name a few.

Emily merely watched from the table, having a slice and bite of her cousin's chocolate-chip cake that the Dursleys could only begrudgingly let her have, if only to prevent her having another bout of freakiness.

Emily's eye moved from Dudley to her Uncle Vernon when the man went to pick-up the ringing telephone. And it didn't take long to know what the call was about or why the man's expression had become a bit irritated.

"Dear," Vernon called to his wife, "Mrs. Figg just called, says she's injured a leg and won't be able to take care of… _Emily_."

"Oh, but then what are we going to do about the trip to the zoo? We can't just leave her behind in the house. Alone."

"I know, Dear. Let me make a few calls, I'm sure there's someone willing to babysit the girl today."

Dudley, who was in the middle of opening his twenty-fourth present, paused in his actions, "What's that about the zoo?" he called out.

"Oh darn, that was suppose to be a surprise!" his mother muttered to herself.

His father responded, "Nothing to concern yourself about, son. I just need to find a new babysitter for… _Emily_."

"What for? Let's just take Cousin Emily to the zoo with us!"

As if his son was speaking gibberish, Vernon repeated dumbly, "...Take _her_ to the zoo with _us_?"

"Yeah, why not? It's my birthday, Dad! Even Emily can't ruin my birthday!"

Vernon stumbled over his next words. Oh, what a heart of gold his son had to invite that freak of his cousin to come with to the zoo! But that would not do, that would not do at all. This was suppose to be a Dursley Family outing, a single peaceful day far away from all the funny-business!

"Son…" he started to say, but then stopped when he noticed the boy's attention had gone back to the pile of presents. Not wanting to disturb his boy, Vernon turned back to his wife and asked, "Dear, what about your friend, er, Yvonne?"

"She's on vacation on Majorca."

While his parents debated on who was free enough to babysit Emily, Dudley (who was about to open his twenty-seventh present) noticed a peculiar item. No, it was just an ordinary everyday item: an envelope. But the hairs on the back of his neck tingled as his eyes were mysteriously drawn toward it.

Dudley picked-up the envelope and felt the mildly rough texture on his fingers. Unlike typical business-envelopes that were a nice white color, this envelope was a bit faded and yellow but it didn't seem to be the wearing of age but a simply a matter of its base-material.

 _Mr. D. Dursley  
4, Privet Drive  
Little Whinging  
Surrey_

Dudley frowned when he examined the envelope as the mystery and allure quietly slipped away. "A letter? For me?" he mumbled. Did he somehow miss this when counting his presents earlier? But it was flat as letters typically were. "You can't fit a good present in a letter!"

Yet even so, Dudley was curious enough to want to check the contents inside.

However, a little before then, while Vernon was still trying to contact another babysitter, Petunia had shortly noticed the oddity in the air, her little Diddykins sitting there and holding an envelope in his hands.

Her body had felt it first (the cold shiver in her spine), before her eyes could even see or before her brain could even comprehend. A paper that was yellow like parchment, with a colorful wax-seal that was outlined with the color of gold with red, green, yellow, and blue inside, that was already half-peeled open.

"Vernon, grab that letter," Petunia uttered blankly.

Vernon, in the middle of dialing a new number, blinked, "What was that, Dear?"

"Grab that letter from Dudley," she said with more emotion.

"In a mo-"

" _ **I SAID TO GRAB THAT LETTER, VERNON!**_ "

It was like the shriek of the damned. The raised, high-pitch voice freezing everyone in place as they stared at the paling woman, looking as ghastly as the sound she had just made.

Seeing his wife act so distraught, Vernon said no more. He briskly walked over to his son and swiped the envelope from his hands.

"Hey!" his son yelled.

But Vernon offered no apologies and grumbled aloud, "Now what is all this noise about a letter?" He opened the envelope and pulled out the letter inside.

"That's mine, Daddy! Give it to me!" Dudley whined and pounded on his father's legs.

Vernon merely ignored the boy, eyes glued to the letter. To the people looking at him, it was like watching a volcano getting ready to explode; every moment, his face turned red like fire, harder like stone, body quaking, and the paper in his was getting more crumpled and cracked by the second.

Then he exploded, booming voice reaching every inch-and-corner of the large house.

"PACK YOUR THINGS, WE ARE LEAVING RIGHT THIS INSTANCE!"

* * *

Later that day, the Dursleys and Emily Potter did not return to 4 Privet Drive.

Not the day after that. Or the day after that. Nor the day after that.

When questioned about it some days later, their neighbor Mrs. Arabella Figg only had this to say:

"I thought they were just leaving for the zoo!"

* * *

==To Be Continued==

* * *

 **Author Ramblings**

 _ **Omegamorph**_ : I wish I could tell stories as well as Araki does, but I'm nowhere near the same style or league.


	3. Chapter 3: Hut On The Rock

**Chapter 3: Hut On The Rock**

* * *

Emily Potter had never thought much about her uncle Vernon. Merely as a large man with a bushy mustache and a very short temper, like a boar in human skin. A boastful man who enjoyed his near upper-class status with a rather strict adherence to a normal routine and a hatred against odd occurrences that would disrupt that predictable routine.

Certainly, from their many years living together, Emily knew quite well that her Uncle Vernon was easily riled by strange happenings (or 'funny-business' as he had often called it).

"I won't let those freaks take my only son from me!"

Yet here was a fury that Emily Potter had never seen before.

Vernon drove like mad, eyes shiftily looking left and right as if he expected someone or something to be chasing after the speeding car. It wouldn't have been a surprised if the police were after them, sirens blaring loudly as they chase the vehicle ‒ but that did not happen. Nothing beyond some back-and-forth road-rage honking had occurred during the hasty trip.

Meanwhile, Petunia sat as still as stone on the passenger-seat. And, in the back-seat, Dudley's rambunctiousness had been stifled to the point that he did little except twiddle his fingers.

Emily had been mostly bored and curious, wondering what in the letter could have possibly sent her uncle flying off of his handles.

She had considered using her Friend to steal the letter when nobody was looking. But, unfortunately, her uncle had ripped the letter and envelope into pieces before tossing them into the fireplace. There was not a trace of it remaining, save for the ashes that had been hastily doused with water before they had left the house.

* * *

Then a few days later, Emily Potter realized that she didn't know quite as much about her uncle as she thought she did.

Vernon had left behind the car at a near empty parking-lot, a lone gentleman had been given the duty to take care of the vehicle.

"If I see even a single scratch on her when I return…" Vernon had threatened, though far more calmer after the several days drive.

"When you return, she'll be sparkling new like the first day you bought her, Sir," the man simply replied before driving off.

Then they had hushly walked for about an hour (Dudley's particular lack of stamina had cause some delays) before reaching the docks. The place show showed a lack of activity, suggesting that the area had been long abandoned. Finally they arrived at the pier, where a raggedy old-man was awaiting them.

"Mista Deller!" the old-man called out in a toothless-slur, "Bingin' ta w'ole family wit yuu dis time, I see!"

"I don't pay you for small-talk," Vernon bluntly replied, "Has everything been prepared?"

"Of cour', Mista Deller," the old-man chuckled as he pointed to a dingy rowboat sitting in the water, "Don't forgit ta sekur' 'er tittly! A sterm 's brewin', Mista Deller, they say t'ree days at ta lease, maybe a w'ole seven if it 'orsens."

"Hmph," was Vernon's response.

After such a long time, Dudley finally spoke, "Are we really all getting on that small thing, Daddy?"

"Yes."

And that was that.

The Dursleys and Emily boarded the rowboat.

Surprising Emily again, Vernon had taken hold of the oars and rowed with the ease of an expert (or at least not that of an amateur). Then off they went into the sea, rowing away further from the shore, and towards the lone rock-formation in the distance.

* * *

Perched atop the rock was a rather miserable-looking hut.

Who built this place and for what reason?

The first-question would likely remain forever unanswered.

But the second-question was easy enough to figure out: a remote hideaway-structure located in the middle-of-nowhere to avoid prying eyes. Perhaps this was not what it was originally intended for, but that was how it was being used now.

The hut was as miserable in the inside as looked on the outside. It had only two rooms (a living room and a bathroom), a couple of furniture (a moth-eaten sofa and a large but lumpy bed), and was just in general worn-down (the terribly filthy windows were closed shut but the cold wind was still blowing through the many cracks in the wall). The fireplace was the only thing that kept the place warm, and barely at that if one was sitting close enough to it.

However, someone must have stopped by recently to tidy-up the place. The floor was not as dusty or grimy as it could have been. The sheet and blanket on the bed looked relatively new, as did the cushions on the sofa. And there were a few other supplies piled in the corner of the room that looked a bit at odds with the generally dismal-condition of the building.

And despite all of its nonexistent homeliness, it was still better to stay inside the hut, rather than being outside in the heavy storm that had rolled in when night had fallen.

There were strong howling-winds rattling the windows, the raindrops thumping loudly against the wooden-boards, the raging waves crashing against the immovable rock, and the resounding thunder striking somewhere in the distance. The surface of the rock had become treacherously slippery, and a single misstep would easily send a person tumbling off into the sea to swiftly be swallowed by either the raging-waters or the frigid dark-depths.

And so nobody dared to go outside to face that sort of weather.

Vernon had taken to the couch, an arm-wrapped protectively around Dudley's shoulders. While Petunia wasn't feeling well and had went to lay down on the bed.

Emily was sitting near the fireplace, staring at the crackling fireplace. She had a blanket draped over her head and wrapped around her body as a shield against the winds that creaked into the hut.

The gloomy little hut reminded her a bit about a piece of her youth in the Dursley Home… And a certain incident that come about because of it.

When she was around the age of two and then nearly turning three, Emily Potter had resided in the cupboard-under-the-stairs. She ate there, slept there, lived there; without complaint, as meek as a mouse in her little hole.

But then one day, she could take it no longer and her jealousy reached its peak.

 _'Why do I have to stay locked in here, while Dudley gets to go out and play everyday?! It's not fair, it's not fair, it's not fair!'_

Emily's Friend (who had grown equally restless all the while when she had been building stress up to this moment) responded to her surging emotions and immediately sent the cupboard-door flying off its hinges with a bang.

"What do you think you're doing, you Little Freak?!" Vernon roared when he arrived at the scene.

"I don't want to stay in the cupboard anymore!" Emily shouted back, "It's dark, it's cold, it's boring! Why does Cousin Dudley get to out and play but not me?!"

"Because Dudley is a good, _normal_ child! Unlike you and your funny-business, Freak! Now back to your room!"

"That isn't a room! I want my own room too!"

"There isn't another room for the likes of you!" Vernon spat back.

"Is too! Dudley has two of them! Give me one!"

"No way!" Dudley's voice suddenly came from above, as the child was looking over the stair's railing, "That's where I keep all of my toys! If you take it, then where else am I supposed to put them?"

Emily stomped her feet, once for every word, "Put - Them - In - The - Cup - Board!"

Her Friend zipped up to the second-floor and ‒ moments later ‒ the toys in Dudley's Second Room immediately sprang to life. The door opened with a slam as the massive army escaped and flew down the stairs. "H-Hey?!" Many of the toys latched onto Dudley and managed to swiftly carry the rotound boy into the cupboard. "Help me, Daddy!"

Vernon had charged at the girl, face red with rage, "Put my son down, you Freak!"

But Emily's Friend had already returned to her side. It slid behind the man, grabbed him by the back of his collar, and easily threw him into the cupboard. However, there was hardly any room for a man of Vernon's size to fit in (especially after it had already been stuffed with Dudley and his toys). Yet the man could not simply leave. For as much as he struggled, the horde of angrily-buzzing toys zapped him with every little touch and prevented his escape.

"Stop! Stop!" Aunt Petunia shakily shouted from down the hallway, "You can have the room, so please just stop!"

"No takes back!" Emily returned.

"It's yours to keep, so stop already!"

Emily thought for a moment and then nodded her head, all the toys made a clattering racket as they dropped inert onto the floor.

Thus that tumultuous incident for the Dursley Family had ended from there.

And just like that, Emily J. Potter had taken Dudley's Second Room on the second-floor for herself. Besides that, the girl had also demanded for more freedom, which the Dursleys could only begrudgingly and fearfully give her.

Of course, Emily's tantrum had forever changed how the Dursley Family would interact with her. Aunt Petunia had become more mousey, while Uncle Vernon had to learn how to restrain his anger. As for Dudley, well, he was still a bit of a spoiled brat.

* * *

When morning had come (or at least she thought it was morning, it was hard to tell with the storm continuing to rage as strongly as last night), and a very light breakfast was eaten (consisting of only a single ration-bar that was too bland to finish), it became quickly apparent to Emily that there wasn't anything to help pass the time.

But it was Dudley's patience which had run out first from the tedium of boredom.

"Daddy, I'm bored!" the boy whined.

Vernon waved a hand towards the pile of supplies at the corner, "There's probably a crossword-puzzle, a word-search, or something else in there that you can do, Son."

"But that's bboooorrriiinng!" Dudley turned to his face his cousin, "Emily! You can do your thingy to bring my toys over here, can't you?"

Vernon practically jumped off the couch, "No! No funny-businesses here! Absolutely not! I forbid you, Girl, from doing any of it!"

"Why not?!"

"Because we came here to _escape_ all the funny-businesses!"

As if on cue, lightning struck off in the distance and punctuated the end of Vernon's words, followed by a moment of stillness and silence.

'KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.'

Then everybody turned their heads toward the entrance, when three great knocks rang out loudly and clearly despite the surging storm outside. However, there was also a fourth KNOCK and that had been the last straw; the rickety-door broke away from its frame and fell into the hut with a thud.

Lightning flashed again, revealing the silhouette of a giant waiting just outside.

* * *

==To Be Continued==

* * *

 **Author Ramblings**

A single lightning-strike would burn down this Miserable Hut but the raging rain would always quickly put out the flaring fire; the Hut has endure many storms and will suffer many more. The winds that howl as they pass through the creaking wooden-boards is perhaps the Hut's painful gasps of life; some say you can even hear its distant wailing all the way from the abandoned-docks.


	4. Chapter 4: Stormy Visit

**Chapter 4: Stormy Visit**

* * *

"Oh, sorry fer dat, didn't think I was knockin' dat hard. Didn't mean ta bust open yer door."

It was no monster-giant at all but an unbelievably large man standing in front of the now broken-open doorway. After some difficulty, the man managed to waddle into the hut through the much tinier door-frame, and the ceiling was fortunately high enough that he could stand tall without bumping his head.

He picked-up the door, set it back into place, and then tapped his pink-umbrella against the hinges. He knocked on it a few more times and said, "Not as good as new but it'll hold."

The man was quite huge, standing at more than eight-feet tall, he was built like a bear. His brown hair and beard were growing up to his shoulders engulfing his head like a proud lion's mane. He was wearing several layers of clothing that was suitably suited for keeping warm in this weather and gave his physique an even bulkier appearance.

A tabby-cat dropped down from the inside the man's coat and then quietly slunk off somewhere within the hut.

"A bit chilly, ain't it?"

The man moved towards the fireplace, squatting down a bit so he could the inside of it, he poked and prodded the burning woods with his umbrella which didn't seem safe at all. But with a strange ' _fwoosh_ ', the fire suddenly grew more lively and the heat of the flames was filling-up more of the hut than before.

Emily Potter found her curiosity being intensely tickled by the actions before her. A broken but then partially fixed door, a weak but then suddenly stronger fire. She had never seen anyone create such peculiar phenomenons with exception of her Friend.

That brought up a question: Could this man have a spirit as well? If he did then she couldn't see it. Then were these spirits invisible to everybody except for their partners? That could be the case, as the man made no sign that he was aware of her Friend hovering near him, only muttering that "A cold draft is still gettin' in?".

So many questions but so little answers.

Intrigued but cautious, she approached him slowly and asked, "Mister… are you a freak like me? Do you ha-"

"Freak? Who called yeh a freak?" questioned the man as he stood-up and turned around. Though the question seemed to vanish as soon as he saw the girl, "Oh! Yeh must be Emily Potter! I haven't seen yeh since yeh were a baby." He smiled fondly, "Yer the spitting-image of yer mother," and chuckled as he rubbed her head, "But looks like yeh've inherited yer father's unruly hair!"

The head-rub was a tad strong but still a pleasant experience. It was the first act of affection that Emily had ever received in her life. That's why she pouted when the man finally stopped, which he apparently took as a sign of him being too overly familiar.

"Oh, sorry 'bout dat, haven't even introduced myself yet. I'm Rubeus Hagrid, the groundskeeper at Hogwarts. But just call me 'Hagrid', dat's wat everybody calls me."

Emily nodded and curtsy with her blanket, "You already know who I am… But nice to meet you, Hagrid! I'm Emily J. Potter." She asked curiously, "Did you know my parents, Hagrid?"

A long time ago, no matter how many times she would ask, the Dursleys would only say that her parents had died in a car-crash, that her father was either a street-performer or a janitor, and her mother was a pharmacist. But beyond that, they remained rather tight-lipped on the subject of her parents, so she suspected that there was more to the story than they had let on.

For example: did her parents perhaps have Friends of their own?

"Oh I knew them well. Became friends with them back when they were still attendin' Hogwarts, sum of the best wizards and witches yer parents were when they graduated," Hagrid stated proudly.

"...Wizard ...Witch?" she repeated those particular words that had caught her attention. Was the man saying what she thought he was saying?

Hagrid frowned, unable to believe his ears, "...Yeh don't know?" He turned to face Vernon Dursley who was standing behind the sofa, "Did yeh tell her nothin' 'bout her parents? 'Bout her heritage?"

"Bah!" Vernon scowled, "The Potters died; what more does she need to know? If you really want her to know anything about it, then maybe you freaks should have raised her instead of leaving the little freak behind with us!"

Hagrid instantly grew angry, "Freak? Freak?!" he pointed his pink-umbrella at the man, "...Yeh've been callin' her 'Freak'?! How can yeh even be an adult when yer callin' a child sumthin' like dat?!"

Vernon pulled a hunting-rifle from behind his back (it had been hidden under the couch, which he had taken out when Hagrid had gone to stoke the fireplace) and readily aimed it at the larger man, "Not another step forward or I'll shoot! And I don't need to explain myself to the likes of you!"

Emily was standing to the side, thinking about what she had just heard. She wasn't paying much attention to the stand-off, but her Friend was ready to intervene should the situation escalate.

According to Hagrid, her parents were a 'Wizard' and a 'Witch', and according to some fantasy-books that she had once seen, they were also known by other names such as 'Magicians' or 'Mage'. If her parents were Mages then that would naturally make her one too. But were the abilities of her Friend considered as 'Magic'?

That would perhaps give some clue about the true-identity of Emily's Friend.

She had always been curious about what it was, because it was the fundamental difference between her and normal people; the separating thing that made her a freak compared to everyone else. From reading a variety of books, the closest approximate that she could find was the 'Poltergeist'; though her Friend did not really act like a spirit or even looked human, so she concluded that it wasn't a ghost (unless it was also a freak even by ghostly standards...)

However, what if Emily's Friend was a product of magic, of her magic? Something like a Guardian Spirit? That could very well explain why it would always follow her around and acted so protectively.

But then who gave it to her? Her parents? Was this a new guardian-spirit they attached to her or was it an inheritance from one of her parents? If they had guardian-spirits then how could they die in a car-crash? Was it really a car-crash?

The mysteries just kept piling on.

While Emily was pondering so, both men had continued to glare at each other, weapons pointed at the other. A few seconds later, Vernon spoke again, "If you're here for the girl, then just take her and leave! Never come back and bother my family and I ever again!"

Tension was beginning to rise once more, but the stand-off was immediately defused when Vernon's hunting-rifle was hit by a flash of light and then spontaneously disassembled itself, parts clanking as they fell onto the floor and rolled away.

"I had it covered…" Hagrid grumbled.

"W-What?!" Vernon yelped in surprise.

"Mr. Dursley," a stern voice came from the person who was standing near the window. It was an elderly lady standing with a great sense of poise and dignity, while wearing a pointy-hat and robes, she was undoubtedly the spitting image of a mighty witch.

"You!" Vernon hissed.

"The last time I paid you a visit, I do recall saying that you should not take Miss Potter no more than a day's trip away from your home," she narrowed her eyes subtly, "This has been more than a day."

Vernon, who appeared to be unsure of who to face (especially now that he was devoid of his weapon), was slowing inching backwards toward the bed. "Like I said: if you care that much about the girl then take her with you!"

"...Believe me, Mr. Dursley, I would like to do nothing more than just that. But as you are her legal-guardians on that side, it is only proper that you raise her until she is of age to live on her own." The Witch then turned to address the shivering Petunia, expression softening like how a grandmother would be, "Mrs. Dursley, I cannot claim to understand your feelings. But I have worked in the halls of Hogwarts for many years now, and I have seen your situation many times. Your sister was born to be a Witch. But despite being sisters, you had not an ounce, yet now your son is-"

"Be quiet!" Vernon shouted, "Not another word out your mou...!" A stick suddenly appeared in the elderly lady's hand and with a wave, a flash of light struck Vernon's face almost instantaneously. "Mmhmnhmnmh!" His mouth had been literally zipped shut, but no matter how much he pulled on the tab, he could not unzip his mouth.

"It's rude to interrupt someone while they're talking, Mr. Dursley," the Elderly Witch scolded him, and then turned back to Petunia, "Mrs. Dursley, a few days ago, we sent an invitation-letter to your home. You had seen the contents of that letter many years ago when your sister had received it. And, judging by your face, you already know what it means for your son to receive his."

She paused in her words.

There was not a sound except for the elements outside, the crackling fireplace, and Vernon's impotent muffles.

Thunder struck and called for the Elderly Witch to speak:

"Mrs. Dursley, your son is a Wizard."

* * *

==To Be Continued==

* * *

 **Author Ramblings**

I seriously don't remember how Hagrid speaks except for using "Yeh" (You) and "Yer" (Your).

Also, the next chapter is getting delayed by a week.

 _ **The Man**_ : Yes, I have a name ready for Emily's Stand.


	5. Chapter 5: A Wilt Petunia

**Chapter 5: A Wilt Petunia**

* * *

 _(January 30, 1971; Cokeworth, England.)_

This is the past of Petunia, long before she became a Dursley and was still known as an Evans.

If people were asked to describe the twelve-years old Petunia, what would they say?

"Plain."  
"Average."  
"Boring."

Neither remarkable nor poor, Petunia was simply normal.

However, the same could not be said about her younger-sister Lily who possessed a mysterious-power.

"Her red-hair really became like fire!"  
"I keep tripping over nothing!"  
"Flowers like to bloom whenever she's around!"

Petunia did not have any special-abilities and secretly held a great amount of awe, fear, and envy towards Lily.

And on this very day - on Lily's eleventh-birthday - the course of Petunia's life would be changed forever.

Addressed to Lily Evans, an owl came to their house and delivered an invitation from Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft & Wizardry. All were excited for the arrival of this letter which revealed the existence of a new and magical world to them. However, none were more excited than Petunia who saw this as an opportunity to attain the same powers as Lily.

Unbeknownst to the family, Petunia wrote a letter to Hogwarts' Headmaster asking if she could attend as well.

However, the response had been swift and arrived the very next day. In short: "Only those who possess magic can attend Hogwarts."

Petunia was filled with such impotent rage and frustration that she tore the letter into pieces and threw it into the trash.

 _(September 1, 1971; London, England.)_

Ever since that letter, Petunia's fragile ego had become more and more fractured. Whenever Lily was praised. Whenever Lily talked about her excitement and expectations. Whenever Lily played with her newfound magical-objects. Whenever Lily did this… When Lily did that… When Lily did anything…

And on this day, Lily would depart for Hogwarts from the train-station.

There, Lily revealed a secret: she had pieced together the torn-letter and discovered her sister's great plight. Since then, she had thought long and hard about how she could help her sister. She did not arrive to any real answer but she wasn't going to give-up because of it.

"Tuney, I'll find a way for you to join Hogwarts!"

At that proclamation, Petunia's simmering malcontent, rage, jealousy, and despair finally exploded out of her. "I don't want to go! You think I want to go to some stupid castle and learn to be a... a... you think I want to be a…" her darkened emotions coalesced into a single word, "...a freak?"

Lily was shocked by the insult, tears swelling in the corner of eyes, as she openly gaped. The girl soundlessly cried as she ran into the train without even saying a goodbye.

Mr. and Mrs. Evans were surprised by the sudden outburst and worriedly asked Petunia what was wrong. But she merely ranted to her parents how magic was completely unnatural and wrong.

When Petunia returned home, she rushed back to her room in a huff and shut herself inside for the rest of the day. She buried her face into the pillow and told herself that it was better to be normal than to be a freak.

* * *

 _(December 24, 1978; Cokeworth, England.)_

Nineteen-years old, Petunia had become an independent woman.

She had moved from work to job, town to city, until she eventually acquired a clerical-position at Grunnings and started dating a coworker - an ambitious junior-executive by the name of Vernon Dursley. A year then passed and their relationship was ready to advance to the next step, so Vernon persisted and persisted, "I'll show your parents just how serious I am about you!" until she finally decided to return home.

But why was Petunia so reluctant and apprehensive to go back to Cokeworth? The time away from home had turned the fire that fueled her immense anger into smoldering ashes and allowed her to mature as a person. She didn't understand what the chill traveling down her spine was, even as she got closer and closer to home.

However, after ringing the doorbell and being greeted by someone who looked so familiar yet not, she soon realized the distance of time and the toll it had taken. As if her memories had stopped on that day at the train-station, Petunia felt like she was seeing and meeting her family for the first time in almost a decade.

Her parents had become more wrinkled with age and their once-bright hair-color was now fading with bits of gray and white streaking here and there. And before she even knew it, her younger-sister was already no longer a child and had grown into a beautiful young woman.

Today, the two sisters had coincidentally decided to introduce their boyfriends to the family.

They sat quietly and mostly allowed the men to speak their piece.

Petunia's Boyfriend had talked about his brand new car that he had recently bought ("...top-of-the-line vehicle with excellent mileage, the coat is a beautiful shade of burgundy, the seats are a fine leather..."). In turn, Lily's Boyfriend spoke about his precious racing-broom ("...the body is made from elm, it's comfortable to grip and excellent to steer on those tight-turns...").

The two men competed on many more subjects. But neither really comprehended what the other was saying and each strongly suspected that one was mocking the other. They kept things cordial in front of the Evans but it was obvious to everyone there that they were glaring daggers at one another.

However, at the very least the two managed to say in their own serious way: _"_ _I'll make her the happiest girl in the world!"_

The Evans laughed joyfully at the men's commitment, "We're happy to hear that, you have our blessings."

Then, a few hours later after eating a home-cooked dinner, it was time for Petunia to leave. But before she was able to go, Lily approached her.

"You look happier, Tuney. I'm glad."

"...What do you mean by that?"

"Ever since that day at the train-station, you were always so angry. But now you look softer, like how used to be when we were younger."

"...Just goes to show that I don't need magic to be happy."

Lily smiled weakly, "...Yeah, magic isn't all rainbows and sunshine… Well, it was nice seeing you again, Tuney, take care!"

Exiting the house, Petunia stood out in the snow-covered ground as she gazed upon the home which she had grown up in. Memories of her youth - both bitter and sweet - returned unbidden. She closed her eyes and a cold breath escaped her mouth. Coming back here made her aware of how she had soured the relationship with her family and the rift it had caused. Perhaps, if she tried to apologize to them, then they would readily welcome her back.

However, Petunia turned around and walked away.

She was an outsider who would no longer intrude upon their world. Not only that, but she was also in the prime of her life and had a path of her own to follow. The distance which she had traveled to get here and the distance that she would continue on from here, every step that she had taken and would take, all of it would surely be worth it in the end.

After all, she realized it today after speaking with her younger-sister, "...I never needed magic to be happy…" she whispered with a soft smile towards the waiting Vernon.

* * *

 _(October 1, 1979; Cokeworth, England.)_

Within an arm's reach, Daisy Evans and Richard Evans laid peacefully quiet within their new wooden-beds. Married for over thirty-five years and having raised two daughters, they have had their fair shares of ups and downs, but the Evans had lived an undoubtedly long and blessed life.

However, their deaths had been abrupt, unexpected, but also incredibly suspicious.

According to the coroner's autopsy, they had died of natural-causes - of a heart-attack.

Yet the Evans were not the first to have mysteriously died like this.

' _Sheer Heart Attack_ '.

That was the name of the latest morbid-sensation that was surging around the nation, as radio, television, and newspaper speculated at the nature of these many surreal-deaths. Seemingly at random, whole families would drop dead - the young and the old, the sick and the healthy, it didn't matter - everyone at that household would suffer from a spontaneous and fatal heart-attack.

But there was something even more bizarre about these simultaneous deaths.

In the middle of eating, in the middle of getting dressed, in the middle of cleaning the house, in the middle of doing anything; the residents of the house seemingly stopped what they were doing to all gather in largest room in the house and then promptly died.

Shock, fear, and conspiracies gripped the nation's attention.

"Phantom Serial Killer On The Loose?"  
"Satanic Death Cult Among Us!"  
"Is The Government Hiding A Deadly Secret?"

Petunia had thought of these deaths as merely distant events, far away from her life of peace and normalcy. However, the quiet deaths of her parents stated otherwise.

Watching over their half-opened caskets, it was difficult for her to believe that her parents had died. But they were indeed dead and she could only wonder what they had done to deserve this.

Though the various news reported no rhyme or reasons to the deaths, Petunia could feel it beneath it skin: someone had killed her parents for a purpose. Paranoia, intuition, knowledge; the roots of her suspicions came from something that defied the common sense of the common people: the existence of Magic. And there was exactly only one thing which would have linked her parents to that mystical world...

As if on cue, Petunia suddenly noticed the presence of Lily next to her; the two of them simply stood next to each other in silence for a long time. Stealing a glance, she saw that Lily's expression was steely, her complexion thinning and pale, and her eyes baggy and red. Overall, Lily looked quite terrible.

After a while, Lily declared with grim conviction, "...Tuney, I don't want to lose anybody else. I won't lose anybody else."

For a moment, Petunia's lips quivered with a voice caught in her throat as she looked into those fierce green-eyes. She almost grabbed Lily by the shoulder and shouted " _Where are you going?!_ " or " _What are you planning to do?!_ ". Petunia could feel it in her bones; if she didn't stop Lily now, then something terrible would befall her sister...

However, a dreadful pressure kept her from acting. It was greater than the fear of loss, it was the fear of getting involved - of destroying all that she had acquired up to now. The mere stench of death made Petunia shudder as she bit her lips and held her head down with shut eyes.

It was silent for a long time.

The next time she opened her eyes, Lily was already gone.

* * *

 _(August 12, 1980; Little Whinging, England.)_

About a month after Dudley's birth, a message was unexpectedly delivered to Petunia's doorstep.

It was a simple letter from Lily, announcing that she had been married to James Potter since September 18th, 1979 and that the two of them finally had a child together on July 31st, 1980. A happy family-photo was also included.

When Petunia had last seen Lily, there had been a certain grim-sharpness to her younger-sister. But this pictured showed Lily smiling softly as she held her baby-girl. Seeing this, Petunia felt relieved and at ease.

She had been seemingly staring at the picture for a long time. The scruffy-man - a friend of Lily's who had been sent to deliver the letter - barked out a question: "I don't want to be standing here all day. But I can wait here for a bit longer if you actually plan to write Lils a letter or something."

She narrowed her eyes but nodded, "Please wait right here," before going back into her house.

Rummage through her things, it took awhile for her to find and unpack the object that had been stored away after her parents passing. Of the few belongings that she did keep, this was one of the most precious: a floral-pattern safety-blanket that Petunia and Lily had woven together during their mother's knitting lessons.

Putting the blanket back into the box, Petunia went back to the entrance and handed it over to the scruffy-man. "Tell her congratulations and that I wish her a happy future. But also tell her to never contact me again," she stated before quickly closing the door on him.

"Bloody hell, what's that suppose to mean?" She could hear the man grumble beyond the door, even swearing a bit under his breath. Eventually the distant roaring engine of his motorcycle signaled his departure.

Petunia placed a hand on her chest, trying to calm the nervous beating of her heart.

By parting with the blanket and sending that message, Petunia believed that she had severed the last significant connection between Lily and herself.

There was the Dursleys and there were the Potters. But there were no more Evans to be had.

She whispered to herself, "...We live in two different worlds, so this is how it should be..."

Yet her heart would not calm down.

 _(November 1, 1981; Little Whinging, England.)_

It was a quiet night when that pair of an Old Wizard and an Elderly Witch had unexpectedly arrived at Petunia's home. Sitting on her living-room couch, they told her briefly about a war which they had recently suffered through.

"With the Dark Lord's defeat, the war is now over, and the Wizarding World is celebrating the end of his dreadful reign of terror," explained the Old Wizard.

"But... But surely you didn't come here _just_ to tell me all that?" Petunia's heart sped-up, pounding loud enough that she could hear it in her own ears, "...It's about my sister, isn't it? What happened to her? To Lily?"

The Old Wizard wearily looked her in the eyes, "Straight to the point then, I suppose… Mrs. Dursley, I am afraid that I must inform you that your sister has passed-away as a victim of the war."

"...Oh…" Those words didn't quite register; there was no sense of reality simply hearing it like this. Petunia suddenly felt light-headed as she remembered the distant-words of her sister: ' _Magic isn't all sunshine and rainbows_ '. It took a while before she could find her voice and eek it out of her drying throat, "How did she… d-die…?"

The Old Wizard looked to his companion, and the Elderly Witch spoke softly from her seat, "Lily Potter died valiantly in resistance against the Dark Lord," she was coddling a baby and rose from her seat to hand-over the infant to Petunia who took the baby gingerly, "She sacrificed her life to save her child. This is-"

"My niece… Emily…" Petunia muttered as she recognized the all too familiar floral-patterned blanket that the baby was wrapped in. She could feel her eyes turning damp as she held the infant close - the mild scent of flowers wafting from the blanket while the warmth of the baby flowed into her. It took a moment for Petunia to recompose herself to ask, "...And the f-funeral…?"

The Old Wizard answered, "We have made arrangements to bury her in Godric's Hollow. That is the village where Mrs. Potter lived in with her family. But, as you are her next of kin, then it is only natural that you have the last say and we will respect whatever decision you make."

"No, no… that's… fine. I'm sure that's what she would have wanted."

He nodded his head, "Very well." He paused to let the air settle before speaking again, "Mrs Dursley, it may be presumptuous of me, but I hope to leave the young Potter in your care until she is of wizarding-age. I understand that this is a great deal to ask of you, so I am prepared to pay for the expenses you would naturally incur from raising her."

Petunia stared at the sleeping baby, ' _...Me? Taking care of Lily's daughter…?_ ' She wasn't sure if she was ready for such a heavy burden, unsure if she could raise the child in a manner that she deserved.

"...Why?" she muttered, "Isn't this girl a… W-Witch? Wouldn't it be better for her to live with you? With people just like her?"

"I believe that it is important for children to be raised by family, especially if it is the only family they have left."

' _Family… I have a family of my own now… But this baby doesn't have anyone… nobody except for me..._ '

"I believe that if Lily were alive then she would have had no qualms leaving her child in the care of her older-sister - with _you_."

Petunia quivered and shook her head, "T-That's not true, we weren't close at all."

"Hmm… Perhaps that is so in your eyes but I believe that Lily thought otherwise. When she had first attended Hogwarts, she asked me if there was any possible way I could make an exception for you to attend; I told her no, and she asked if it was possible for you to develop magic later in your life; I told her not to get her hopes up on such an astronomically-rare possibility, and she asked if there were any magical-tools that you could use. It went on for quite a while. Lily Evans had so many questions for me, that I had to dedicate some time after classes to answer them. Over the years, she had even done much research on her own." He paused for a moment, "At least to me, it seems that Lily was always trying her very best for your sake."

Petunia was speechless.

Vague memories echoed in her head. Echoes of her teenage years and the minimally few encounters with Lily at home. It was time when her grudge and anger still burned strongly, a time when she refused to listen to anything that Lily would have to say and actively avoided her younger-sister.

She realized that had pushed Lily away for nearly half of her life. Could she now do the same to her niece? Could she throw away the final connection she had with Lily? Would she repeat what she had done a years ago?

"I apologize, perhaps I've said too much... Mrs. Dursley, this is quite a lot to ask from you, and I believe you require more time to think about this. We will take our leave now and return on later date. I hope to hear your decision then."

The Old Wizard urged his companion to take the Young Miss Potter.

When the infant's warmth left Petunia's arms, a strange and cold sensation crept over her body. It was the same ominous-premonition as that funeral-day. A feeling that a terrible fate awaited the child if she let them go now.

This time, paranoia and fear overcame her hesitation and caused her to act. Petunia rose from her seat with a shout, "Please wait!" The pair stopped and turned around. They looked at her with curious expressions and she was struck with a moment of uncertainty. But Petunia placed a hand on her chest as she took a deep breath, she internally repeated a certain phrase until she finally spoke it aloud: "I'll take care of her."

Yet those words came-out feebly and didn't sound convincing even to her own ears.

The Old Wizard asked, "Is that truly your decision?"

But before any doubt or hesitation could sway her, she answered quickly, holding firm to the new resolve born within her, "It is. I'll take care of her… I... I can't substitute for Lily but I'll do the best I can."

He smiled gently at her, a twinkle in his eye, "Very well, we leave Miss Potter in your care."

* * *

 _(June 27th, 1991; Hut On The Rock.)  
(The Present.)_

Petunia's life had given its fair share of ups and downs. But magic in particular seemed to stalk her at every twist of her life. It had long lost its wondrous luster since childhood and had turned rotten and sour like a tormenting curse.

For as long as she could remember, magic had given Petunia nothing but trouble and heartache.

Magic had created the rift which distanced her from her family. Magic was the nail in her parents' coffins. Magic had stolen her younger-sister's life and orphaned her niece. And now magic wanted to take away her precious one-and-only child.

"Mrs. Dursley, your son is a Wizard."

Those words struck Petunia like a sledge-hammer and rattled her brain and composure, "T-That can't be right! There has to be some kind of mistake. Dudley can't be a… He's a normal child!" The zippered-mouth Vernon vigorously nodded his head in agreement.

"Mrs. Dursley, we use various methods to identify magical-children born to non-magical parents, and it is only after verifying the child's potential of becoming a wizard or witch do we at Hogwarts send him or her an invitation-letter."

"My son is not a wizard!"

"And I am here to convince you otherwise, Mrs. Dursley," The Elderly Witch paused for a moment, "Hagrid, bring it out."

"Aye!" He shuffled through his coat and then pulled out a stone-cube which was rather large but still small enough to fit on the palm of his hand. The cube was made of a dark stone with a vaguely open-mouth face carved into one of the sides. "Here it is."

"This is a 'Mouth Of Truth'. To explain it simply: you put your hand inside the mouth and if you possess the ability to become a wizard or witch then it will make a sound. Hagrid, a demonstration if you will."

The large-man put in three of his fingers - as no more than three could fit - into the cube's gaping mouth. The air was silent for a second before the cube emitted a moaning sound that filled the hut:

 _"_ _OOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHMMMMMMMMMMMMM~!"_

It stopped when he pulled his fingers out.

"Miss Emily, would you like to give it a try?"

The girl thought for a moment and then nodded her head. Hagrid lowered the cube and she stuck her hand inside. And just like before, the cube emitted a long but more wispy moan:

 _"_ _OOOOOAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH~!"_

"Thank you, that will be enough." Emily removed her hand, and then the Elderly Witch sternly looked at Petunia, "Suffice to say, the same would occur should I put my hand inside its mouth. Now then, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, I must insist that you lend us a hand for this little demonstration."

Vernon glared at Hagrid and soon signaled the larger-man to stop getting any closer to the bed. He met Hagrid half of the way there and then glared with such intensity that he might have been able to burn a hole into the magical-tool.

"It won't bite," Hagrid teased.

Vernon glowered at him but eventually relented and shoved a hand into the cube. Seconds passed, followed by an awkward minute without a sound. When Vernon finally removed his hand, Hagrid stuck his fingers in and the cube moaned alive again. Vernon seethed perplexedly; taking pride in his normalcy that prevented the cube from making a sound, yet displeased that a freak was able to taunt him because of that.

Hagrid then moved passed the irked Vernon and approached the bed to present the Mouth Of Truth to Petunia.

It was an ominous object, the stony-expression resembling the peeled-off face of a poor victim that Petunia had once seen in a movie. The gap was opened thinly, so a hand could only be inserted straight and flat. The hollowed-eyes seemed as if they were staring into her soul as she shakily moved her hand towards its mouth.

But Petunia stopped and retracted her hand just before the tip of the cube's lips, "...H-How do I know that you haven't cheated? Making it so this box won't make a sound for Vernon or me but it'll make a noise when it comes to Dudley?"

"' _Cheated_ ', Mrs. Dursley?" The Elderly Witch straightened her back and sharpened her voice, "If you truly believe that, then nothing I say or do will ever convince you otherwise. Mrs. Dursley, instead ask yourself this: Regardless of the outcome, are you willing to accept the results whatever it may be?"

"...I… I'm his mother and I _know_ what's best for my son!"

The two women glared at each other, neither willing to back down, as if the first to blink would lose this battle of wills.

However, Petunia was aware of just how powerless she would be against a witch. She was nervous and frightened, yet still she held onto her ground. Because this was something that she couldn't - wouldn't - allow herself to coward away from. The outcome of this confrontation would decide the fate of her dear child.

"And what exactly do you think is best for your son?"

"Away! Away from magic and all of its ilk!" she said strongly.

"A child that cannot control his magic is a danger to himself and those around him."

"That won't be a problem because my son does not have magic."

"...Is that truly what you believe, Mrs. Dursley?"

"Of course!"

The Elderly Witch closed her eyes and sighed before opening them again, "Very well, then I shall take no more of your time. However, one last thing before we leave: Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, bring Miss Potter back to your home in Surrey or you will find us paying you two another visit very soon." She let those words settle in - receiving a nod in return - before calling to her companion, "Hagrid, we are leaving."

"...Right."

Though the pair of witch and wizard were walking away, Petunia did not feel like she could relax at her apparent victory. There was a silent tension in the air, an unseen disturbance which caused her body to tingle. As if lightning was about to strike down upon the hut.

And strike down it did. For what happened next was like a swift storm.

Petunia felt it, the sudden static on her wrists when her arms were instantly pried open.

Dudley freed himself from her protection and seemingly launched himself off the bed, "Wait!" he shouted, landing close to the giant-man, "Bring the box-thing out, I didn't get a turn!"

"Oh," Hagrid stopped and uttered, "Uh, sorry. But no can do. Yeh need yer mother's per-"

And then regaining her wits, Petunia frantically scrambled off the bed, "Dudley, get back here _right now_!"

Hagrid's expression turned wide as he took a step back, there was something obviously squirming beneath his coat. "I don't remember bringin' Eric with me!" He quickly patted himself down, but the creature or thing inside of his coat acted unbothered and simply continued whatever it was doing. "Oi, give dat back!"

The Mouth Of Truth flew out from Hagrid's coat, zipped towards Dudley, and then the boy's hand smoothly entered the cube's opening...

 _"_ _DDDDUUUUUUHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOO~!"_

* * *

==To Be Continued==

* * *

 **Author Ramblings**

Sooo this chapter took a lot longer than I had expected. Long story short, I delayed this chapter for two-weeks because I had something else I needed to write to write something else. I finished early and had alotta spare time, so I decided to rewrite Chapter 5 because I wasn't entirely satisfied with the original-draft... and, well, it took until now before I finished. Might just be me, but I find it difficult to widely communicate these issues on FF.

Anyways, good-news? I basically have Chapter 6 done. Bad-news! I'm rewriting it, both because I'm not satisfied with the original-draft and because the rewrite of Chapter 5 means that I need to make changes to Chapter 6 anyways. So, uuuhh, let's hope this next one won't take as long.


End file.
